


the pathos of things

by tokiwas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (not in relation to the characters tho), Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Historical References, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, References to Death and Suicide, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiwas/pseuds/tokiwas
Summary: in a world built on the repetitions of history, wakatoshi moves forward.
Relationships: Oohira Reon/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33
Collections: Shiratorizawa Fanweek 2020





	the pathos of things

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 4 of the shiratorizawa fanweek 2020 - reunion/rain/historical au. there's a reunion in there, some rain in there, but unfortunately it's not a historical au! there are a lot of historical references though!
> 
> the story has a lot of references to the legends of minamoto no yoshitsune/ushiwakamaru and benkei. no prior knowledge is required, but it would be helpful if you knew the basic context of the legends - you can read about them [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benkei).
> 
> as stated in the tags above, there are mentions of death and suicide in this fic. this is all pertaining to the legends this fic is based on. it has absolutely nothing to do with the characters or the plot at all, but if you are uncomfortable with such content, please be careful!
> 
> a lot of spoilers, especially for the current arc, so take note if you're not okay with spoilers!

_“Join a strong team. Strong and interesting players gather in a strong environment. And once you become stronger, you’ll get to fight against all sorts of guys. Strong guys, weird guys, new guys. Those guys will make you stronger, for sure.”_

**

Wakatoshi’s father’s words are nothing but truth.

It is engrained in his heart when he joins Shiratorizawa Academy Middle School. The school is his father’s alma mater, and the strongest school in the prefecture. There is no place stronger.

On his first day, there are plenty of different young boys in the gym, eyes blazing with determination. They must all be strong, Wakatoshi thinks. They are in Shiratorizawa, after all.

Wakatoshi is undeterred by his fellow first years, by the seniors watching them. He is here to play volleyball, and become strong. He is here to become the ace that his father admired. There is nothing else that he cares for.

The first years are split into groups and they play a practice match against each other, under the watchful eyes of the Coach. Wakatoshi, with the precious gift his father had protected, plows through the blockers with ease, and hears high praise from the seniors and Coaches alike.

After the match, the first years clean up the gym, and Wakatoshi is alone while the others fraternatise with each other. There are whispers around him as he helps clear away the equipment, and many involve his name. Wakatoshi does not care. He is here to play volleyball, not indulge in the gossip of others. As he places the netting in the storeroom, he hears a voice behind him.

“You’re good.”

Wakatoshi turns around to face another first year, sticking out his hand in greeting. He was playing on the opposite team, the team that Wakatoshi had just beaten. It’s the first greeting he’s had today.

“My name is Oohira,” the boy says, smiling. He is slightly shorter than Wakatoshi, but his presence is so much more. “Oohira Reon.”

Like a famous bridge in Kyoto, like the whistle of a flute. Like the clashing of a thousand weapons, nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine to one. Like the words of a nursery rhyme, repeated over and over.

Here is where they meet.

**

Oohira Reon is a powerful player. His receives are strong, his spikes are powerful, and he has good intuition. He is another person blessed with good fortune, another person with great potential.

Another person like Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi is showered in good fortune. He is given the straight, linear path his father had set out for him, from the moment his father had protected his left hand. The path to being the admirable ace his father had raved about, to being part of a strong team, to being a strong player.

But he knows, for others, they aren’t the same.

Those who aren’t given such blessings take a non-linear path. They climb uphill mountains to reach where they are. They have strengths in their own ways. Wakatoshi is lucky, and so he does not have to take such a path.

Because of this, he knows more than anything, that he must face his linear path with certainty. He will take every opportunity to be strong. They are laid out in front of him – he cannot waste them.

**

Apart from his strength in volleyball, Oohira Reon is good-natured and kind. He makes friends easily with juniors and seniors alike, and many fellow first years flock to him, asking for advice. At some point, he becomes the official spokesman for the first years, speaking up on behalf of them whenever some are too afraid to confront their seniors. Whenever Wakatoshi passes by Oohira’s classroom, he is always surrounded by a group of people, similar to how it is at volleyball practice. He is someone easy to approach.

Someone completely unlike Wakatoshi.

Despite their differences, Oohira spends most of his time with Wakatoshi, talking to him about V-League games and practicing late at night with him. Even during school hours, Oohira invites him to lunch at the cafeteria, and they always walk together to the school gym. For Wakatoshi, who had spent most of his elementary school life alone, it is a different experience from the years before.

“Reon, you spend way too much time with our Ushiwaka,” a third year says teasingly, watching Oohira and Wakatoshi practice receives. Wakatoshi had gained a strange nickname after his debut at the Inter-high National Championships – it’s a nickname that he’s not particularly fond of, but it doesn’t matter much.

“Is that so?” Oohira chuckles. “I mean, it’s a lot of fun practicing with Wakatoshi. I learn a lot from him.”

 _Wakatoshi_. Oohira is the only person who calls him by his first name, other than his family. He doesn’t know when it started, but it feels natural – right – that Oohira calls him by his first name.

“What, you’d rather learn from a fellow first year, rather than your own seniors?” the third year jokes, good-naturedly. “Your loyalty is way too much. What are you, Benkei?”

Oohira simply laughs in return, and the sound echoes pleasantly in Wakatoshi’s ribcage.

After practice, Wakatoshi and Oohira are the last ones in the gym. They clear away the equipment, and clean up the gym together.

“It’s nice to spend time with you,” Oohira says suddenly.

Wakatoshi looks up from his mop to blink at him.

“I mean, it’s not just volleyball, you know?” Oohira explains. He sports a firm smile on his face. “Regarding what I said earlier. I’m not hanging out with you just because I want to learn more about volleyball, or because I want to practice with you and become stronger. We’re friends, Wakatoshi. I like spending time with you.”

“…Is that so.”

Wakatoshi turns back to his cleaning, staring at the lines taped across the gym floor. It’s the first time he’s ever heard someone say that to him. The words swell up and up, into the hollow of his lungs, and almost suffocates him.

**

The National Championships are full of strange and interesting people, just like what his father had said. Every match is exciting to watch, and the matches he plays are even more exciting. Wakatoshi thrives in the environment of Nationals – he feels as if he is in his true habitat.

They don’t win all the time. They lose to stronger opponents many times. But Wakatoshi has learnt from years of volleyball, that defeat is simply part of volleyball, and all he can do is improve, so that he does not lose in the same fashion, the next time around.

Over the multiple times he competes in Nationals, he encounters a number of interesting people. Quiet and careful Sakusa Kiyoomi. Loud and cheerful Iizuna Tsukasa. Kiryuu Wakatsu, with trembling nerves underneath his serious expression. Wakatoshi enjoys the matches against them, and looks forward to the draw every time Nationals roll around.

Going through qualifiers is simply the warm up.

Albeit some challenges, they mostly pale in comparison to the monstrous environment in Nationals. Wakatoshi takes them seriously – after all, practice is just as important as the real deal.

Shiratorizawa’s closest competitor is Kitagawa Daichi. They are interesting with their combination attacks, but none of them are as interesting as the monsters Wakatoshi is able to play against in Nationals. That is, until he plays against their new setter.

Oikawa Tohru is strong. From his deadly serves, to his harmonious set ups with his other players, Wakatoshi can sense a sort of connection with him. They are alike – they are both filled with an unquellable hunger for strength and glory.

Here is another person with a linear path carved out at his feet. All he has to do is walk upon it.

After their qualifier to the Spring High Tournament, Wakatoshi chances upon meeting Oikawa Tohru on the way out of the bathroom. Oikawa Tohru holds his “best setter” award in his hands, and he sports an unpleasant expression when he chances upon Wakatoshi.

“You’re strong,” Wakatoshi says.

Oikawa simply huffs in response. Wakatoshi remembers his father’s words, a guiding light, and perhaps Oikawa might benefit from them as well. There are no falsities in his father’s words; Wakatoshi has grown in leaps and bounds ever since joining Shiratorizawa. No doubt Oikawa will too, if he joins next year.

“If you’re in a strong school, you’ll definitely become stronger,” he says. “If you come to Shiratorizawa, you can join the strongest players, play against the strongest players, and you’ll be able to reach greater heights than ever before.”

Oikawa’s expression becomes almost deadly.

“I don’t want to go to Shiratorizawa,” he says, voice sneering. “I’ll carve out my own path. I don’t need to be part of _your_ team to be the best.”

Wakatoshi doesn’t understand.

There is a linear path at Oikawa Tohru’s feet, and yet he chooses not to take it. It goes against Wakatoshi’s father’s truth. It is incomprehensible.

“How regrettable,” Wakatoshi finally says, turning away. There is a straight path right in front of Oikawa’s eyes, but he chooses to search for the ocean at the end of the world. Wakatoshi had thought he and Oikawa were alike, and yet after talking to him, they are so different. It is something Wakatoshi cannot understand.

**

“You tried to scout Oikawa Tohru?” Oohira asks him in bemusement. Wakatoshi, surprisingly, had been the last person to board the bus, and Oohira, curious, had asked him what took him so long.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi answers. “He declined, however. How strange.”

Oohira laughs.

“Well, everyone has their reasons,” he replies, patting Wakatoshi on the shoulder. Wakatoshi decides not to dwell on it any further. The choice may be unsatisfactory, but whether or not Oikawa Tohru chooses to walk along the linear path, or climb upon uphill mountains, is none of Wakatoshi’s concern. Shiratorizawa is strong, with or without Oikawa Tohru.

**

Shiratorizawa High School is on a completely different level compared to Middle School.

While the Middle School Division is reputable, the High School Division is famous for producing Volleyball players, successful on both national and international levels. Students from all over the country join the prestigious school, hoping to earn a coveted starting spot in the team. On the first day, Wakatoshi and Oohira stand side by side, and he notices some faces he had seen during Nationals. He has even played against some of them.

The competitive environment excites him.

Oohira doesn’t seem fazed by the wave of strong contenders. Just like in middle school, he makes friends easily, and just like in middle school, he holds his own against the rest. Wakatoshi, carrying on from the years before, spearheads the first years’ attack to win against a team made of seniors, and whispers of him having a guaranteed starting position sweep around the gym once more.

But there is a difference between middle school and high school. Instead of being deterred by Wakatoshi, the other first years are excited, and they vow not to lose to him. Wakatoshi feels as if he is back at Nationals, surrounded by interesting players. It is where he belongs.

As the year progresses, Wakatoshi’s small circle becomes even bigger. There are other first years that approach him, that are comfortable enough to call him by his first name. Semi Eita, who had won the best setter award in his prefecture. Tendou Satori, an eccentric character scouted by Coach Washijou. Yamagata Hayato, whom Wakatoshi had played against in Nationals. They surround Wakatoshi with chatter and friendliness – a different atmosphere to middle school.

Perhaps it is because they have faced other strong people before, that they do not fear him. They are taken aback by him at first, but the initial surprise quickly wears off, and they speak to him casually. They spend their free time in the common room together, have meals together, and share notes in the library. It is a strange sensation, to walk together with a group of people instead of just Oohira. But it is not unpleasant.

This is definitely in line with his father’s words. Only the strong can face the strong without batting their eyelids. His father’s words are nothing but truth, and the linear path stretches out far and wide before all of them.

**

But Oohira is special.

They continue on from last year; Oohira staying loyally by Wakatoshi’s side, even though their circle has become larger. They are even paired up in the same dormitory. Tendou teases them and calls it fate, but Oohira simply brushes it off, calling it a coincidence. Coincidence or otherwise, Wakatoshi is glad for it. It is comforting that he is allowed to room with a familiar face.

In High School, Coach Washijou’s strategy is to focus the team around Wakatoshi, and so Oohira’s role shifts slightly as compared to Middle School. His new task is mainly to back Wakatoshi up – including receiving all the serves and spikes aimed at him. But Oohira is well-trained for such a task. The evenings in Middle School spent practicing receives pays off well, as he receives powerful and tricky serves with relative ease. It is to be expected – Oohira is strong. He is from Shiratorizawa, after all.

Oohira is special. He is Wakatoshi’s first friend, Wakatoshi’s training partner, Wakatoshi’s teammate since middle school. Wakatoshi is grateful for Oohira. He is happy to be by Oohira’s side. He is happy that Oohira continues to stay by his.

Those feelings of happiness and contentment grow as the school year goes by, and somehow they morph into a different shape than before.

Wakatoshi remembers the suffocating feelings he had once felt in middle school. Over time, after he had gotten accustomed to Oohira and the warmth of his friendship, they had evaporated into milder feelings of content.

But when they enter their second year of high school, they return in full force.

There is no meaningful conversation that brings those feelings back – it simply surfaces at the most insignificant of times. Oohira smiling at him. Oohira patting him on the back. Oohira going over to his table in the cafeteria, and pulling up a chair next to him. It is overwhelming, occupying the cavity in his lungs, leaving him almost helpless.

His feelings do not stop him from playing volleyball to the best of his ability, and so it is not much of a concern. It is, however, rather confusing, and unable to be expressed in words.

Wakatoshi has never been an expressive person, anyway.

**

In the midst of winter during their second year, Wakatoshi returns from the Japan Youth Training Camp, to find Oohira waiting for him.

“Welcome back,” Oohira says, smiling.

The two words are enough to suffocate him.

“…I’m home.”

They fall into silence. It’s not something that’s uncomfortable for the both of them – Wakatoshi doesn’t say much, and Oohira doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps where the atmosphere is quiet. Wakatoshi goes around to unpack his things, while Oohira reads a book. It is a book by an American poet that Oohira had borrowed a month ago. Wakatoshi had taken a glance at it once, when Oohira had left the book open on the desk – It was a little too complicated for him to understand.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Oohira asks him, as he finishes unpacking. There is a nervousness to his tone. Wakatoshi turns to face him, and nods.

“What is it about?” he asks.

“It’s-” Oohira swallows hard, before speaking. “It’s about a confession.”

They are eye to eye, and all of a sudden, there is tension heavy in the depth of the room. It is almost alike a confrontation. But Oohira’s expression is nothing but kind. No confrontation will take place, not with one of them sporting such a gentle expression.

Wakatoshi does not understand. He feels as he is on a bridge towards unchartered territory – a wide, wide space in front of him, without any sign of a path.

But of course, that is not true. Before Wakatoshi stands a singular person – Oohira Reon.

Perhaps Oohira Reon – or perhaps, his feelings for Oohira Reon, is as vast and unknown as the imagined unchartered territory.

“I like you,” Oohira says, blushing slightly. “I like you, Wakatoshi. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

The suffocating feeling in his chest dissipates, and Wakatoshi can breathe again. Everything is strange, and new, and almost wonderful. The sunset illuminates their room, painting it in gold. A gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

What does he want, anyway?

Wakatoshi tries to decipher his wishes, and in this moment, it is all just _Oohira._

The vastness of his desire stuns him.

“Will you go out with me?” Oohira asks, and for the first time, he sounds almost afraid. Wakatoshi knows that Oohira is kind enough to accept rejection with a smile, but – who would ever want to reject Oohira?

_We are all going forward. None of us are going back._

Wakatoshi steps forward, into unchartered territory.

**

They become lovers – a word that sticks to the back of Wakatoshi’s throat and never leaves.

Even so, their routine barely deviates. Nationals are their priority – it always has been, and nothing will get in the way of that. They have spent years together – even something that carries as much weight as a confession will not change them much.

What does change is their hestitation.

There is nothing to hold them back any longer, and they can act on their impulses, no matter how insignificant they seem. It is because they are lovers that they can share a bed every night, without questioning. It is because they are lovers that Oohira will take Wakatoshi’s hand under the dining table, and run his thumb against his knuckles. It is because they are lovers, that one day Oohira presses his lips to Wakatoshi’s cheek, and another day against his forehead, and another day, Wakatoshi impulsively presses his lips against Oohira’s.

He does not understand this newness very well, and trying to speak it is almost impossible. But Oohira is patient, and doesn’t ask for much. He leads the way more often than not, and Wakatoshi is happy to follow, content at the sight of Oohira’s happiness. It is the simple things, like Oohira’s forehead against the back of Wakatoshi's neck, Wakatoshi’s fingers curled up in Oohira’s shirt – these are sufficient to him. It is these that calms him, that fills his ribcage with an unfamiliar word.

Every day they learn to be brave. Every day, they take a step forward. What seemed like unchartered territory at first falls perfectly within the linear path, and Wakatoshi is content to walk upon it; with Oohira by his side, and their fingers intertwined.

When they enter their final year of high school, they are braver and more curious, and they learn of desires hidden beneath their skin. They are both inexperienced, but they are not impatient, and so they take their time to learn, as they fumble clumsily in the dark.

But it is after Inter-High when they hit the peak of their curiosity, their bodies filled with want.

They have navigated through unchartered territory before, but never like _this_. Wakatoshi claws moon-crescents into Oohira’s shoulder blades, and Oohira’s lips press hot against his neck, whispering _“I like you, Wakatoshi”_ into his skin as he rocks slow, slow, fast, _faster._ It is overwhelming. It is too much. It is everything he has ever wanted. Wakatoshi speaks Oohira’s name for the first time, caught up in a fit of heat, and even as Oohira kisses him to calm him down, his head is aflood with that singular name. _Reon, Reon, Reon._

**

“The story of Yoshitsune unfolds like a parabola, rising up into the air and plummeting down into the earth.”

Their literature teacher draws on the chalkboard, a line that goes up, and curves into a downhill slope. Wakatoshi is not apt at literature, and can barely follow what he says. A few tables away, Yamagata’s confusion is as clear as day upon his face.

“Yoshitsune goes from glorious general to the most wanted man in Japan, and dies betrayed by those that he served and trusted. Even his personality changes, from wild-spirited to resigned. From glory to defeat, in such a short amount of time, and through no fault of his own. Such a fate invokes a sense of a _hoganbiiki_ – a sympathy for the losing side – in the reader. The term is even coined after Yoshitsune himself. _Hoganbiiki._ Sympathy for the lieutenant.”

As the teacher continues speaking, Wakatoshi eyes the drawing on the board. It is a common theme amongst legends – the hero’s rise to power, a glorious achievement, and a swift downturn into misery. The teacher, passionate and dramatic, had drawn it in one fluid motion.

Alike a singular path.

Wakatoshi is fortunate, for he is a volleyball player, not a samurai. The path before his feet is nothing but linear.

**

Karasuno High School is made of concrete rubble, and their supposed beacon of light is a person who clearly did not train enough to overcome his difficulties. They are the exact opposite of his father’s words, and yet they dare to dream.

Throughout the entire match, Wakatoshi fights bitterly to prove them wrong. His father’s words are right, they are truth. How dare these fools try to challenge his father’s words, when they are nothing but cement and sand.

Yet, they somehow win, and Wakatoshi’s father’s words crumble into concrete dust.

The linear path, so clear in front of him, is now tainted.

But Wakatoshi has long lived by another truth – that he cannot do anything in the face of change, but move forward.

And so he does just that.

He throws his childish sentiments into the air, and moves forward.

What else is there to do?

**

The bus is full of the sound of stifled crying. Wakatoshi sits next to Oohira, who sports red eyes, but his expression is calm. He turns to Wakatoshi when the bus starts to move, managing a smile.

“Are you alright?” he asks kindly. Wakatoshi turns to him and nods.

“Yes,” he answers. “I’m alright. I’m just thinking about how to improve.”

Oohira cocks his head in surprise.

“Improve?” he asks.

“We can’t turn back time,” Wakatoshi says. He knows this. He has known this long ago. “When we lose, the only thing we can do is move forward. I’m thinking about moving forward.”

Oohira thinks, and chuckles softly. Wakatoshi is relieved to hear the sound.

“I think… I don’t want to move forward,” he says. “Not just yet. Right now, I’m tired, and I want to rest. I’m sure coach will go over our mistakes later, but. Right now, I just want to stay still.”

Stay still. Wakatoshi remembers a long time ago in elementary school, when the disappointment of losing a game would fester in his heart like an open wound, and he would be affected for a few days. But many matches later, he had learnt to understand that losing was part of volleyball, and so he simply accepted all losses that came his way. He would think of the parts he was weak at, and work on them.

They cannot go back. They can only go forward.

But they can also stand still. Wakatoshi had forgotten about that.

“Okay,” he says, finally. Oohira allows him to rest against his shoulder, and cards gentle fingers through his hair. Perhaps it comforts Oohira to be close to him, as much as Oohira’s closeness comforts him.

Wakatoshi does not think of the match for the entire ride back to the school grounds.

**

A hundred serves later, Oohira kisses Wakatoshi in the quiet of their room, and continues to kiss him, over and over and over and over. His hands roam Wakatoshi’s shoulders, his ribs, his spine. His lips against his neck, his chest, and lower, lower, _lower_ …

Wakatoshi closes his eyes, and allows time to stand still again.

**

Time moves forward, as always. The first and second years take on their new responsibilities, and the third years begin to prepare for life after high school. Despite the loss in qualifiers, Wakatoshi is set to have a future in volleyball, having been approached by a number of Division One teams since Inter-High.

The brightly lit path may be dimmed with concrete dust, but he’ll still walk upon it, nonetheless.

Without club activities, the extra time allows Wakatoshi to spend more time together with Oohira. They go on dates to the movies, to the shopping district. Wakatoshi manages to snag tickets to a V-League match, and the two of them sit side-by-side in the stadium. It is nice to stay still for once, to be lazy and indulgent, to be wrapped up in each other with one less responsibility on their shoulders.

They haven’t discussed what will happen after graduation yet. Still, there is time left, and so Wakatoshi doesn’t think much about it.

But he is forced to confront it one day, when the third years are gathered together in the common room after classes. Oohira arrives late, claiming that he had a meeting with his homeroom teacher.

“I’ve asked to make a last minute change on my career sheet,” Oohira tells them, taking a seat next to Wakatoshi. “I’ve changed my choice of university.”

At the sound of Oohira’s statement, the others start rummaging in their bags, all pulling out their career sheets. How strange. Wakatoshi remembers that the due date for submitting the forms was a long while ago.

“Ah, man,” Semi says. “I still haven’t submitted mine.”

“Same here,” Yamagata pipes up.

“The class teacher told me to rethink what I wrote on mine,” Tendou sneers, scribbling on his career sheet.

“That’s because you put the word “famous” on it, you moron,” Semi retorts. “At least list a job.”

Wakatoshi blinks at them. He had submitted his career sheet the very week they were given out. It was clear to him that he would continue to play volleyball. The others notice his confused expression, and they grin at each other.

“Oh, that’s right,” Oohira says. “Wakatoshi submitted his early, didn’t he?”

“I did,” Wakatoshi answers.

“Well, we don’t need to ask what Wakatoshi wrote,” Yamagata laughs. “Eita, what’s on yours?”

The career sheets are passed around the table with mirth and teasing, and Wakatoshi gets a glimpse of them. Out of the four sheets passed around them, only Yamagata has listed being a “professional player” as his future career. Tendou had told Wakatoshi of his intention to quit volleyball, so he’s not surprised at the answer on the sheet, but looking at Oohira and Semi’s papers evokes a strange feeling in his chest.

How different it is, to when they first met. In the beginning, Oohira and Semi had discussed the possibility of going pro. And yet – their career sheets look so different from the excited chatter of two years ago.

“Semi, Oohira,” he says. “Will you be playing volleyball in university?”

Semi smiles wryly.

“I’ll be playing casually,” he says. “The University League isn’t for me. I barely got any play time in Nationals for the past two years, anyway – I don’t think any universities will be hopping on board for me to join, you know?”

“I’ll definitely be playing,” Oohira laughs. “But I want to focus on my studies first. Anyway, just like Eita said, I don’t think I’ll be getting many offers from universities. We didn’t make it to Spring High, after all.”

They had joined the perfect school. They were amongst the best of the best. They had stood on the orange court together. And yet-

Their paths diverge.

“So, what do you think of my revision?” Tendou pipes up, brightening the tense mood in the common room, and the atmosphere is full of cheer once more. Wakatoshi remembers his own career sheet, the words “Professional Volleyball Player” written in neat handwriting. He thinks back to the emails from professional teams, the letters in the mail, the calls over the phone.

His path had been so brightly lit – at the expense of the others.

And yet they had made the choice to come to the strongest school. To play in Coach Washijou’s style. They must have taken it into account when they chose to join.

The path that had seemed so obvious, so straightforward for all of them-

His father’s words, the clearest truth he had ever known. They had started to crumble when they had lost on that final day of qualifiers, and they continue to crumble.

**

“Isn’t Satori really bold?” Oohira asks him. The two of them walk along the corridor back to their room after watching the first and second years practice. “Going to a foreign country is really gonna take a lot of work!”

Wakatoshi nods. The words on Oohira and Semi’s career sheets continue to float in his head.

Not everyone pursues a career in volleyball. That is obvious. But-

They are all strong. If they weren’t strong, they wouldn’t be here.

Wakatoshi is so deep in thought that he bumps into Oohira’s shoulder. They have reached their bedroom, and Oohira is opening the door.

“Whoa,” Oohira says, steadying him. “You alright?”

“Oohira,” Wakatoshi says in response. “Why do you think you won’t be scouted? You’re strong.”

Oohira chuckles at the straightforward question.

“If you think about it, Wakatoshi,” he says. “You’ve got the most exposure in the eyes of the sporting world. You’ve been a starter since first year. Plus, our whole team is built around you. It’s no surprise you’ve already got invitations by professional teams. Compared to the rest of us, well, we don’t stand out as much.”

Oohira has always been by Wakatoshi’s side. Following Wakatoshi along that singular, linear path.

Why is it that there is a fork in the road?

Is it because-

“Am I the reason why you didn’t get scouted?” Wakatoshi asks him.

Oohira stares at him, not comprehending.

“If you went to another school,” Wakatoshi goes on. “If you went to another school and went to Nationals, without me around, would you be scouted?”

“I don’t know,” Oohira replies, smiling carelessly. “I don’t think it matters, anyway.”

Wakatoshi cannot turn back time. He has long known this. If he knew how to turn back time, he would have gone back to that singular day, and ask his father not to leave.

But his father had left, anyway, and Wakatoshi simply moved forward.

Such is change. Wakatoshi knows there is nothing he can do but move onwards. He can stand still, he can take a break. But ultimately he has no choice but to move forward. There is nothing else he can do when facing change.

Even so-

“Are you alright?” Oohira asks him, voice worried. He places a hand on Wakatoshi’s back, and Wakatoshi realises, his body has been tense for a long, long time. “You’ve got a rather strange expression on your face. What’s the matter?”

“I-” Wakatoshi takes a deep breath, and speaks. “I think, I don’t know how to move forward anymore.”

Oohira looks at him in surprise at first, until his face melts into a softer one, finally understanding.

“Then let’s stay still,” he says gently. “Let’s stay still until you remember how to move forward again.”

**

They stay still, unmoving. Curled up together on the bottom bunk bed.

Oohira tells him the reason behind his change in career forms. He had been approached by a university in the summer, offering a scholarship based on his performance in the Spring High Nationals. It was Oohira’s first choice university.

Of course, Shiratorizawa didn’t make it to Nationals. The scholarship offer was retracted.

Without the scholarship, Oohira didn’t have the financial means to study in that university, and so he changed his direction.

“Of course I want to play professionally,” Oohira says. They are as close as can be, and yet Wakatoshi feels a wide gap in between them. “But I don’t think my path is as clear as yours, you know? But I’ll still play in the university league, and hopefully, one of the teams will think I’m good enough to play for them.”

“I thought that the path is clear, here in Shiratorizawa,” Wakatoshi admits. “We’ve met the strongest opponents, we’ve played the strongest volleyball. What’s the difference between you and me?”

Oohira huffs out a laugh.

“Maybe because you’ve watched us from the back left all these years,” he says. “You think that the other universities have noticed us too. But from the bystander’s view, Wakatoshi, you’re so bright. You gather the most attention. And that’s fine by us. All of us in Shiratorizawa want to see you shine, even if it means we don’t get to shine as much.”

The path is clear and brightly lit. But there is not enough space for everyone.

Wakatoshi did not realise.

“Don’t make such a face,” Oohira laughs, cupping his cheek fondly. Wakatoshi doesn’t know what expression he is wearing. He only knows that his chest is tight, and it grows even tighter, looking at the smile on Oohira’s face. “It is what it is, you know? I’ll definitely play volleyball in the future. Paths aren’t meant to be linear, after all.”

Paths aren’t linear.

Not even for the fortunate.

Oohira shifts closer, and kisses him sweetly. Wakatoshi intertwines their fingers wordlessly, squeezing them tight and refusing to let go. They stay still, unmoving, until the sun sets, and Soekawa knocks on their door, calling them for dinner.

**

Time moves forward, as it always does.

Everyone but Wakatoshi is wrapped up in their studies for entrance exams. Wakatoshi himself is busy training, taking the required medical tests, signing the relevant forms.

He will be making his debut in the V-league after graduation. There are a lot of things to prepare for.

One of those things being his relationship with Oohira.

They discuss it one day, after Oohira’s studying session in the library. It is late in the evening, and the sun had set quite a while ago. There is no sunlight to paint the room golden. There is no gold room, where everyone gets what they want.

“What do you think is going to happen to us?” Oohira asks. “After graduation.”

Wakatoshi looks at his hands.

“I’ve signed a contract with a Division One team,” he says. “I’ll be moving to Tokyo.”

“Oh.” Oohira forces a smile. “I’ll be staying in Miyagi. All my university choices are within the prefecture.”

Wakatoshi says nothing.

What did they think was going to happen? That Wakatoshi was going to go pro, and Oohira would go to a university in Tokyo? They’d share an apartment together, share their lives together, and Oohira would eventually be scouted upon graduation? That they’d continue down that straight, linear path, side by side as always?

(Wakatoshi had seen Oohira’s career sheet before the spring qualifiers. His first choice was a university in Tokyo.

What did they think was going to happen?)

“We can still make this work,” Oohira tries. “There’s LINE, and phone calls, and I can-”

The words die off, and Wakatoshi does not question it. Oohira will be getting a part time job once he enters university. Wakatoshi will spend his weekends playing professional matches, in different parts of the country. The typical “ _I’ll see you on the weekends”_ can’t apply to their relationship.

Wakatoshi tries to think of a solution, but the more he tries to give an answer, the more he comes up with blank spaces. Oohira had always made the decisions in the relationship, and Wakatoshi simply followed, swept up in the echo of _Reon_ in his head to think of anything else.

He had long thought he was only doing whatever Oohira wished. That he was happy with whatever made Oohira happy.

Now he knows – Oohira had always been making decisions because Wakatoshi didn’t know how.

Wakatoshi still doesn’t know how.

Oohira smiles at him. Wakatoshi has realised over the years that many things have began, simply because of Oohira’s smile.

This time, it seems that with that smile, there are things that will end, too.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Oohira says, voice resigned. “The world outside high school is going to be different. Much different. It might be impossible for us to continue on the way we are now.”

“If we continue,” Wakatoshi finally speaks. “It won’t be fair to you.”

If they continue, Oohira will be busier than before. He won’t be able to focus on his studies, or university league volleyball.

Wakatoshi has already stood in the way of his career path once.

He doesn’t want to do it again.

“So let’s end this after graduation,” Oohira tells him. “Maybe we’re too young to think long-term.”

He still smiles.

That night, they both do not sleep in the same room. Oohira goes to Semi and Yamagata’s room, and does not return. Wakatoshi stays in his room, and sleeps alone.

(Wakatoshi dreams of a long time ago. His father had held him, and said goodbye, promising to send cards for his birthday. He bid goodbye to Wakatoshi’s mother, and grandmother, and then he had left.

Utsui Takashi was the only one who cried.

The moment he had left the house, Wakatoshi’s mother had went to her room, and stayed there for a long time. When she came out of the room, it was evening, and she prepared dinner.

It was hayashi rice, Wakatoshi’s favourite food.)

When he wakes up the next morning, Oohira is sitting at the desks, smiling at him. They go on a run together, and they go to the gym to observe morning practice together. It seems as if the entire conversation hadn’t happened the evening before.

But Wakatoshi understands now, more than ever. The path ahead of him is one that he will walk alone. Before he had entered middle school, it was something he had accepted without complaint. But now, it is different.

It is painful.

**

But still, as always, Wakatoshi moves forward.

What else is there to do?

**

Entrance exams pass by quickly, and the third years are left with an abundance of time to worry about their results. The third years living in the dorms begin to pack their things and send them home. In particular, Tendou becomes an informal merchant, helping sell unwanted items from the third years to students from other grades. Despite the sense of finality that sweeps through the dorms, there is still time for fun and games, just until graduation day.

One by one, the third years find hobbies to pass the time. Wakatoshi waters plants in the school’s greenhouse. Tendou attempts to write manga. Oohira catches up on his reading list. Yamagata writes lists of puns to try out on the juniors. Semi carries out a Kurosawa Akira film marathon.

On one of the days, they all join Semi’s movie marathon, crowding around his laptop in the common room. It is a parody of a well-known play, based on one of the legends of Yoshitsune.

“I thought we’ve had enough this from literature class,” Tendou huffs. “Why are we watching this, again?”

“Well I have to complete his entire filmography, don’t I?” Semi replies.

Wakatoshi has seen the play before – his mother and grandmother had brought him to see it when he was much younger. He had barely understood the play back then, but watching the movie brings back memories. In a famous scene, the main character Benkei recites from an empty scroll, and in another scene, he beats his own master, just to trick the guards into letting them pass through the barrier.

“All that work went down the drain just for nothing, anyway,” Yamagata says, as the credits roll. “Despite the humour and comedy at the end of the movie, everyone knows that they die in the end.”

“But that’s what makes the story so great, isn’t it?” Semi responds. “It’s a bittersweet ending. Those types of stories are popular, aren’t they? We celebrate their current success because we know they will face despair.”

“There’s a term for that,” Oohira tells them. His eyes flicker to Wakatoshi, and then away. “ _Mono no aware._ The impermanence of all things.”

Wakatoshi remembers the day he had attended the play. Although he didn't understand much, he had watched it obediently, sat next to his mother. The one thing that had stood out was a line by Yoshitsune, spoken in lamentation of a fate gone wrong.

_“This world will never go as one hopes it does.”_

Wakatoshi had agreed with Yoshitsune on that day. He had never wanted his father to leave.

Now, after watching the movie, he is reminded of that feeling.

**

After one of their usual morning runs, Wakatoshi and Oohira stop by their postbox to inspect for mail. Wakatoshi doesn’t have any mail for once, but Oohira has a few. As Oohira inspects them, Wakatoshi notices that all of them have names of universities printed at the top of the envelope.

“They’re acceptance letters,” Oohira says, in surprise.

“Oh.” Wakatoshi thinks he should congratulate him, but when he tries to form the words, his throat closes up, and so he keeps silent.

At breakfast, the others find out about Oohira’s acceptance letters. Semi and Yamagata are still waiting for their results, and so the sight of Oohira’s letters make them nervous. Still, everyone is happy for Oohira, and they all promise to have dinner at the shopping complex later.

Wakatoshi and Oohira decide not to watch practice this time around, choosing to have a day off. When they return to their room, Oohira places his acceptance letters neatly on his table, taking a picture to send to his parents.

“They must feel relieved that I actually got accepted,” he says, showing Wakatoshi his parents’ happy replies. “Those entrance exams were no joke!”

“I see,” Wakatoshi replies. He cannot say anything more. He didn’t take any, after all.

Outside their window, the air is cold. But it was colder yesterday, and the day before. The season is changing. The school year is coming to an end.

Oohira sits down at the bed with a “ _there we go_ ”, and grimaces.

“I really need to kick that habit,” he says, giving Wakatoshi a wry smile, and pats the space next to him. Wakatoshi sits obediently, and Oohira leans against him, their shoulders bumping together. He lets out a long, contented sigh.

A long silence passes.

“I can hear you thinking,” Oohira says softly. “What are you thinking about?”

“I didn’t say congratulations earlier,” Wakatoshi replies. “I was wondering when it would be appropriate to say it.”

Oohira laughs. The sound echoes almost painfully in Wakatoshi’s ribcage.

“You can say it now,” Oohira teases.

“Congratulations,” Wakatoshi says immediately. Oohira laughs again, and kisses him. It is a singular kiss, but somehow, it fills Wakatoshi with a feeling alike desperation.

In a fit of impulse, he pushes Oohira down onto the bed, covering Oohira’s body with his own. They are flat on the mattress, bellies pressed together. Here, lying here like this, they are safe from the repetitions of history. In this position, Oohira cannot die upright. In this position, Wakatoshi cannot slice himself open.

“What’s wrong?” Oohira chuckles. “This is rare.”

Wakatoshi kisses him, long and slow, and when they part, he lowers his head, pressing his lips to the shell of Oohira’s ear.

 _“Don’t leave,”_ he mouths out, the words inaudible. A wish so selfish he cannot utter out loud, but a wish he cannot keep within him. This is what the world calls compromise.

“Wakatoshi, you’re heavy,” Oohira says, laughing fondly, and shifts them, until they’re both lying on the bed, forehead against forehead. They kiss, again, and again, and again, until the room is filled with heat, until time slows to a crawl. Skin against skin, their clothes peeled off and hanging neatly on a chair next to the bed. They move languidly. They have all the time in the world. There are no acceptance letters on the desk, and spring is still far, far away.

**

But time moves on, as it always does.

**

Graduation day is a lively affair. Wakatoshi and the rest of the third years bid farewell to the volleyball club members, of which almost all are crying. Despite everything that happened, it has been a marvellous three years, and Wakatoshi does not regret any decision that he’s made, even if the results were less than satisfactory. Paths are not linear, not even for the fortunate.

After bidding goodbye to the juniors, the third years head to thank Coach Washijou, their cranky old coach. Coach Washijou has changed some since the Spring High Qualifiers, and he is not as fierce anymore. But cranky or calm, Coach has always been a guidance for all of them.

“You kids really were some of the greatest kids I’ve raised,” Coach Washijou says, smiling at them. “It’s been a lot of trouble and noise, but I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you for everything,” Wakatoshi says, and the five of them bow low.

The volleyball club members walk out of the school together. It’s a daily ritual for them. After practice, the members in the dormitories always walk the other members to a certain intersection, and they bid each other goodbye.

This time, for the third years, it is a ritual they will perform for the last time.

They say goodbye to their juniors, and they start to break off, going in different directions. Wakatoshi and Oohira head off to the train station together. Their items had been sent home before graduation, and so they don’t have much luggage to carry.

It is a quiet walk. Wakatoshi can feel his heart growing heavier with every step, but still, he moves forward.

He has experienced a familiar scenario before – of having to say goodbye, even when he doesn’t want to.

History repeats itself.

They reach the station, and check their platform. Oohira’s train is fifteen minutes after Wakatoshi’s, and so he walks Wakatoshi to his platform.

As they wait for the train, Oohira finally turns to face Wakatoshi. His face is one that Wakatoshi has seen before – the one he makes when he’s trying to be strong for someone else.

History repeats itself.

“I want you to have this,” Oohira says, voice breaking on the last word. He places something in Wakatoshi’s palm, and it is a singular button.

One that was once attached to Oohira’s school uniform.

“I know it’s already over,” Oohira says, and his eyes are filled with saltwater. “But I still want you to keep it. You’ll always be precious to me, Wakatoshi.”

History repeats itself. Wakatoshi watches Oohira fight away his tears, and he has no source of comfort for him. All he can do is stare.

“I’ll be watching your matches,” Oohira says, smiling despite his watery eyes, his trembling voice. “And maybe one day, I hope I’ll be able to play against you.”

History repeats itself. There is a burning so painful in Wakatoshi’s chest, yet his eyes are dry.

“Thank you, Oohira,” he says. “Thank you for our time in middle school. Thank you for our time in high school.”

Oohira laughs, a choked sound. Wakatoshi enters the train, crossing the distance between the platform and the vehicle, and watches Oohira head off to the opposite platform. Like a bridge to a castle in Iwate prefecture, like a legend that plummeted into tragedy. Like a thousand arrows upon an upright body, like a sword across the belly.

Another bridge, another story.

This is where they part.

**

Wakatoshi arrives home when the sun begins to set.

His mother is reading in the living room when he enters. She has lived alone ever since her mother had passed away. Upon moving into the dorms in Shiratorizawa Academy, Wakatoshi only returns home twice a year – one week in summer, and the Mother’s Day weekend. It is strange to return home this early in the season.

“I’m home,” Wakatoshi says.

“Welcome home,” his mother replies, her tone quiet and formal as always. Wakatoshi heads to his bedroom, and closes the door behind him.

He will be home for another week, before moving to Tokyo and joining his team for training. Perhaps it will do him good to rest, to stay still, and not think about moving forward for a little while.

And so, he unpacks. He puts away the empty boxes and luggage bags. He places Oohira’s button on his table, hidden behind the photoframe of himself and his father. He changes into clean clothes. He sits. He remains still.

The sound of the clock is loud.

In the solitude of his bedroom, Wakatoshi remembers the reason why he didn’t stay still before. With Oohira, staying still was calming. It allowed him to pause, to take solace in the warmth of the person next to him, to not think about anything.

But here, the stillness is loud, so loud in his chest that he thinks it may tear apart.

Wakatoshi’s fingers twitch and his toes curl. He wants to run. He wants to spike. He wants to continue moving forward, forward, forward without thinking. He cannot turn back time. His father walking out of the door, the sound of the ball hitting the floor for the last time, Oohira’s second button in the palm of his hand. If he continues to stay still, he will start to look back. He will start to wish for the impossible.

If he continues to stay still, if he doesn’t move forward now, he will never move again.

But all Wakatoshi sees before him is mountains of rubble. The linear path is long lost, gone with Shiratorizawa, gone with Oohira, Tendou, Semi, Yamagata. There is no going back. But there is no longer a forward.

Wakatoshi is stuck.

**

“Wakatoshi.”

His mother’s voice calls, breaking the drumming in his ears. He looks up, and sees his mother at the entrance of his room.

“Dinner is ready,” she says, and leaves without another word.

Wakatoshi gets to his feet, and heads to the dining table.

**

Dinner is hayashi rice, the same dish his mother always makes on the first day Wakatoshi is home. The meal is silent, as meals are in the house, and Wakatoshi washes the plates for the both of them once dinner is over.

“Wakatoshi,” his mother says, over the sound of the eight o’ clock news. “I saw the button on your table.”

The ticking of the clock is drowned out by the sound of Wakatoshi’s heartbeat.

For the past year, he had not told his mother about his relationship with Oohira, for the sole reason that his mother never asked. There are many rules about courting in the Ushijima household, and Wakatoshi didn't think his relationship fit the criteria. He had hoped that he could tell her eventually, but then again. This world will never go as one hopes it does.

“Are you in a relationship?” his mother asks him. She doesn’t sound harsh or accusing. Her tone is the same as always – quiet, devoid of emotion. But how sharp she is – she had immediately guessed that the button belonged to someone else.

“No,” Wakatoshi answers. “We were in a relationship, but no longer.”

His mother watches him for a long moment, and sighs.

“When I first started dating your father,” she says. “I kept it a secret from your grandmother, until I was ready to tell her. I can’t say I regret the decision.”

Wakatoshi is somewhat surprised. His mother has always been duly obedient, as how the rules have been set in the family. Wakatoshi himself is far from a disobedient child, but there have always been certain aspects of the household he finds difficult to comply with. Perhaps, there are more similarities between himself and his mother, as compared to what he had previously thought.

“I wish you could have told me about your relationship,” his mother goes on. “But I understand and respect your choice. Just know that you have a week between today and the day you go to Tokyo. You can choose to grieve in any way you wish. There are no restrictions on that.”

Wakatoshi stares at her, unable to speak, before remembering his manners.

“Thank you, mom,” he says.

His mother nods, and the both of them turn their attention back to the news. Wakatoshi can hear the sound of the clock ticking once more, and even as he stays still, he does not feel trapped any longer.

**

Despite his mother’s assurances, Wakatoshi does not deviate much from his usual routine. He spends his time training, and he has many phone call sessions with his old teammates. Yamagata has been scouted by a team in the Second Division. Tendou is busy with preparations for moving abroad. Semi is attending a university in Tohoku, and has already moved into an apartment with a few friends.

And Oohira- well, Oohira is preparing to begin his first steps in university.

A university in Sendai.

They don’t talk for the entire week, and Wakatoshi learns of Oohira’s situation through the others. He’s not the type of person who initiates conversation in the first place, anyway – Oohira has always taken the first step, from the day they had first met.

Without that, there is no contact between the both of them.

It is understandable, Wakatoshi thinks. Oohira was visibly upset at the train station. Talking to him might not help with moving on.

But it’s just that-

Hearing about Oohira from someone else just makes him wish to hear the same story in Oohira’s voice.

It is selfish to think of such a thing. Wakatoshi knows this, and so he is grateful for the updates by the others. Even so, it doesn’t stop him from feeling glass splinters in his chest every time he hangs up the phone.

Perhaps this is what his mother means by grief.

**

After the week at home, Wakatoshi leaves for Tokyo, and joins his team.

His new teammates are filled with the same hunger that Wakatoshi had first seen when he entered Shiratorizawa. Wakatoshi doesn’t grow as close to them as he did with his previous teammates, but he gets along relatively well, and is thankful for the intense English classes taught in school, as he interacts with many players across multiple countries.

It is enjoyable. Wakatoshi stumbles more often than not, and has less playing time compared to high school, but it is expected. Even if he is strong, there is still a lot to do in order to become a star player on the professional level.

As the season goes on, Wakatoshi finds himself playing more and more. His days are filled with training, meetings with advertising companies, interviews with the media. His communication with his old teammates dwindles down to well-wishes and birthday messages. He barely has time for anything other than his career anymore.

He still moves forward – a ritual he is accustomed to. In the professional scene, he does not have the time to stand still. If he stops, he’ll be swallowed up by the intensity of everyone else around him.

With intense practice and good fortune, Wakatoshi does well in the V-league, and manages to land a spot in the Japan Squad for the World Grand Champion Cup. Inspired by the successes of other countries, the Coach had added some young faces to the team, hoping that with fresh blood, they can climb higher than before.

It doesn’t work out.

To many critics, it is unsurprising. Even the strongest players in Japan are overshadowed and overpowered easily by other countries. While the result is disappointing, it is not unexpected.

Still, Wakatoshi wishes he could have made more of a difference.

He understands the significance of his spot in the team. He was chosen over an older player with more experience, with the hopes that his skill could spark something new and bright. Wakatoshi had hoped that he could bring the Coach’s gamble into fruition, but unfortunately, he failed to do so.

He has been chosen over someone else for years. It had brought victory and glory to his team many times before. This time, however, it didn’t bring much to the table.

( _“This world will never go as one hopes it does.”_ )

Even so, he continues moving forward. He cannot waste the opportunities that had been laid down at his feet. He will continue to walk his path, even if it is no longer linear.

He will continue moving forward, even if his feet are heavy.

Wakatoshi loves volleyball. He hasn’t changed since the day he was first introduced to it. He will accept whatever challenges that come his way, and move forward without complaint.

But it is tiring to continue moving, unchanged, when everything around him changes.

**

During the league break, Wakatoshi receives an email from the Irvine Polar Bears, a team in the United States of America. He’s invited to come and observe the team.

Wakatoshi looks down at the end of the email, and he notices it – his father’s name, typed out in plain font at the bottom.

He arranges a timeslot with his coach, and hops on a plane the week after.

It is a long flight to Los Angeles. Wakatoshi thinks of what happened to his father after he had left the household. His book was a hit amongst the sports scene in Japan, and was even published abroad in the English language. Wakatoshi knows the book by heart, and knows that many of the fitness techniques that Coach Washijou employs are directly taken from his father’s book. It is one of the reasons why he devotes himself to fitness training.

In the meanwhile, Utsui Takashi has been working as a fitness coach for the Irvine Polar Bears ever since he moved abroad.

Wakatoshi looks forward to watching the American team. Perhaps it will help improve his play. He hasn’t been doing well in training recently – his coach had suspected fatigue from the immediate transition to the high-stakes professional game, and had recommended that Wakatoshi keep away from intense training for a while. Observing a different team might give Wakatoshi some new ideas, as well as a well-deserved break.

But his career aside, there is a twinge of uneasiness in Wakatoshi’s chest at the thought of meeting his father again. He had worked hard to be the ace his father admired, but he’s not exactly in that position anymore. He wonders what his father will think.

It is a long flight. Still, it takes Wakatoshi a while to finally fall asleep on the plane.

**

After spending the night sleeping off jetlag, Wakatoshi goes to the volleyball team’s training grounds first thing in the morning, and waits patiently for his father.

Unexpectedly, the first person that greets him there isn’t his father, but Iwaizumi Hajime. Wakatoshi has heard rumours that Oikawa Tohru had been scouted by a team in Argentina, and that Iwaizumi was attending a university in America. Still, America is huge – Wakatoshi didn’t expect to meet a familiar face, let alone one from his high school days.

Interestingly enough, Iwaizumi is also there to meet with his father. They are so caught up in conversation that the both of them fail to notice Utsui Takashi emerging from the doorway.

“Wakatoshi!” his father’s voice sounds out, the years abroad giving a slight accent to his words. “It’s been so long!”

Wakatoshi knows of his father’s current appearance from pictures, but somehow, it is different, seeing him in person. His father has grown more muscular, with more lines across his face, and has a slight tan from the sun. But he still has the same smile, the same kind eyes.

For a single second, time stops, and almost turns back.

But then the person next to him gasps, and Wakatoshi snaps back to the present. Utsui Takashi notices Iwaizumi, and his face becomes slightly puzzled.

“Is he an acquaintance of yours?” he asks, politely nodding at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

The whole time, Wakatoshi had wondered what to say. There were birthday cards and postcards and emails, but he had never known what he would say to his father if they ever met in person.

But seeing his father now, it is easy. Everything falls into place.

“This is Iwaizumi Hajime. We’ve played against each other many times since middle school…”

**

Wakatoshi spends the first half of the day with Iwaizumi Hajime, and spends the rest of his time with his Utsui Takashi. The shift from his hotel room to his father’s house is rather effortless, as Wakatoshi brings a singular backpack worth of belongings, and his father spends the day showing Wakatoshi around the city.

It is nice to reconnect with his father. Any uncertainty Wakatoshi had harboured about what would happen dissipates into thin air, the longer he spends time with him. There are some differences, but overall, Utsui Takashi is the same man that taught Wakatoshi how to receive, all those years ago.

Still, time does come with changes. His father is more carefree than he was back in the Ushijima household, with a wider smile, and he is less formal when he speaks. His partner and child are coincidentally away on holiday, so Wakatoshi does not get the opportunity to meet them, but the multiple pictures in his father’s apartment are enough to tell that they are a loving family, happy and content. Wakatoshi is glad for them.

“Wakatoshi, you’re so big now!” Utsui Takashi laughs, for the sixth time. His cheeks are lightly flushed with influences of the red wine he had at the dinner. It is slightly flustering to hear his father speak like this, but Wakatoshi has always loved seeing his father smile.

“You’ve really grown into such a fine young man! Is there a special person in your life?”

His father waggles his eyebrows, teasing. It is almost comical. Wakatoshi smiles down at his fingers, and answers honestly.

“There was.”

“Oh.” His father’s expression dampens somewhat. “I’m sorry, Wakatoshi. What happened?”

It is different, hearing his father ask him such a question. When his friends had asked him about it, it was like being asked an essay question. One that was difficult to put in words, even though he had the answer in his head. Being asked by his father, however, is nothing of the sort. Instead, the question aches, like a palm pressed against a bruise.

“I chose to play professionally,” Wakatoshi answers. “He went to university in Miyagi. We didn’t want to get in the way of each other’s career choices.”

Utsui Takashi’s eyes are pained at the explanation, but he gives Wakatoshi a smile. Perhaps it is an American cultural trait, or perhaps it is the alcohol that moves him, as Wakatoshi finds himself being embraced tightly.

“I’m sorry, Wakatoshi,” his father repeats, voice painted in gentleness. He offers no further questions, no words of advice about love. He only gives the apology.

For the first time in his life, time turns back. Wakatoshi is seventeen, and sixteen, and fifteen, and all the years before, reading his father’s name in neat handwriting. Greeting cards with the words “Happy Birthday” printed in brightly-coloured English letters. Postcards with different photographs on the face of each one. A wedding photo with his father and another person. A newspaper cutout of the Irvine Polar Bears. A popular book about training and fitness.

His father’s name, a constant in his life. His father’s name, and nothing more.

He didn’t need an upbringing different to the one he had. There was nothing lacking in the years he spent moving forward, forward, forward without looking back. He is content with his past, with his present, with everything that he has endured until today.

The only thing he had ever wished for was-

History repeats itself. Wakatoshi is small again, in his father’s arms, on that one singular day.

Only this time, Utsui Takashi does not cry.

**

The next day, Wakatoshi goes to observe the Polar Bears again. Iwaizumi has a full day of classes, and so Wakatoshi goes alone, after receiving an onslaught of messages – most of them laughing about Oikawa. Apparently, Iwaizumi had sent their photograph to Oikawa, who had thrown a huge fit, and Iwaizumi found it incredibly humorous.

Wakatoshi has never understood Oikawa Tohru, and never will. He no longer feels the need to.

He observes the team on his own at first, while his father assists with the training and warmup. After their drills, they break into groups and carry out a practice match, and his father heads off to where Wakatoshi is seated, watching them intently.

“What do you think of the team?” his father asks him.

“It is different to what I’m used to,” Wakatoshi answers. “But all teams are different. Even in the national team, it is different compared to my current club.”

His father laughs, and pats him on the back.

“As expected of a professional!” he says. “I see that you’ve taken a little bit of a backseat in the national team, though! The jump from V-league to the international stage sure is big!”

“Yes.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes flicker back to the team, laughing and shouting as they go about their practice match. Their ace is much larger than him, and stronger. He remembers his father’s words from beneath the rubble. An ace who could always find a way.

“I was fortunate,” he tells his father. “I was fortunate to be an ace in my school years. I don’t know if it was the ace that you talked about before, but I was fortunate to be an ace whom my team trusted.”

Utsui Takashi smiles fondly at him.

“I watched all your high school games,” he says. “Coach Washijou forwarded them to me! You were amazing, Wakatoshi. I could see how everyone looked up to you. It got me so excited – I felt like I was back in high school, tossing to that ace again.”

Wakatoshi allows himself a smile. Those days are long gone, but they are days that he treasures, more than anything else.

“But more importantly, Wakatoshi!” his father continues, clapping him on the back. “The best part about all your matches was that you were always so happy! Even when you struggled, even when you lost. The whole time, you looked like you just wanted to play volleyball! As your father, that’s more than anything I could ever hope for.”

Happy? Wakatoshi had never thought about that. He knew he was obsessed, obsessed with just playing to the best of his ability, but he never thought about it translating into happiness.

A huge cheer goes up from the training court. It’s the brilliant ace, who had smashed a massive spike. Shouts of encouragement erupt from both sides of the court, and there are jokes and smiles all around. Wakatoshi remembers just over a year ago, whenever he would score during training, and his teammates – his friends – crowded around him, laughing about _“as expected of Wakatoshi!”_ and _“you almost knocked my fingers clean off, Wakatoshi-kun!”_

It is nostalgic.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi finally says, gaze fixed on the court. “I was happy. And I am happy now, too.”

His father smiles at him, and they continue to watch in silence.

**

The week in America passes by too quickly, and Wakatoshi is to return back to train with the National Team, in preparation for the World Series. It was an interesting experience – one that was nothing but beneficial. Wakatoshi is grateful for the invite.

Utsui Takashi drives him to the airport, and helps him with his luggage. They are to part again – another repetition of history.

But this time, there is no heavy feeling in Wakatoshi’s chest. The parting may be sorrowful, but he will continue to move forward, not with hope, but with knowledge, that they will meet once more.

“It was good to see you again,” his father beams at him. He looks almost teary-eyed. “So many things have changed since I left Japan. But I’m glad that you’ve grown wonderfully.”

Wakatoshi nods. “I’m glad to have met you too,” he says. “Thank you for inviting me here.”

He starts to head off to the gate, until he hears his father’s voice calling his name, and turns around.

“I follow all your matches!” Utsui Takashi calls out. “I’ll always be rooting for you. So do your best!”

Wakatoshi blinks at him. Those words trigger memories in his head – he is lying on the floor with Tendou after their final high school game, and Tendou is promising him that he’ll be watching him on TV. He is at the train station, and Oohira is telling him he’ll be following his matches. He is in his bedroom the night before a big game, scrolling through encouraging messages from his old teammates.

Change and loss is inevitable. Wakatoshi knows this, and has long accepted this. Whenever something unexpected occurs, he moves forward without complaint, knowing there is nothing else he can do. But secretly, there was a part of him that was tired of moving forward. There was a part of him that hated it.

Moving forward was uncomfortable. It was exhausting. And most of all, It was lonely. That was what he had thought before.

But Wakatoshi isn’t alone.

He never has been.

When did he forget that?

Somehow, the path in front of him, twisted and unfamiliar and covered in rubble, doesn’t seem so sinister anymore.

“Thank you, dad,” Wakatoshi says, and gives his father a smile.

This time around, he falls asleep easily on the plane home.

**

When Wakatoshi returns to Japan, he resumes his training, and with the help of his coach, he slowly learns to put into practice what he was exposed to during his stint abroad.

They struggle at the World League, and lose at the end. But despite the lacklustre performance, Wakatoshi is not too troubled. He knows now, more than ever. Paths are not linear, not even for the fortunate.

After the international games, Wakatoshi returns to the V-league. He continues practicing, continues finding ways to be strong. He reads the encouraging messages sent to him on the old LINE groupchat, and endeavours to respond to each one. He calls his mother on the weekends. He sends postcards to his father.

He learns to look back – not at the path that he had walked upon, not at the choices he had made before, but to the people who had always been supporting him from behind.

Back in high school, Wakatoshi was never alone. There was always someone who would walk beside him. Tendou and his television stories. Semi and his interesting clothes. Shirabu and his deep frowns. Kawanishi and his unreadable expressions. Yamagata and his confusing puns. Goshiki and his loud declarations. Oohira and his gentle kisses.

Now, they are no longer next to him. But he can always turn around.

Looking back is no longer an act of regret – instead, it is an act of gratitude.

And so, he looks back.

It is easier to move forward now.

**

Rain pelts across the Tokyo sky as Wakatoshi crosses the road.

He is on his morning run – a ritual he carries out whenever he doesn’t have training. However, it had started to rain halfway through his course, and he is without an umbrella.

The rain is mild – mild enough for Wakatoshi to continue running. But he knows that the weather may worsen if he decides to complete his run, and so he turns back.

Wakatoshi walks past the nearby park, and for the first time, something compels him to stop, to look at the statue right outside the park gates. It is a scene from a famous kabuki, carved into immortality.

Saitou Musashibou Benkei, the most loyal of Retainers. The famous monk who protected his Lord for years, even if it amounted to nothing in the end. Arrow after arrow after arrow, shot upon his figure, and yet he did not fall.

Despite everything that had happened to Minamoto no Yoshitsune, Wakatoshi believes that he had good fortune. He had good fortune to have a follower who would do anything just to let his Lord escape from his pursuers, even if it meant laying his hand on his beloved Lord. He had good fortune to meet a person so loyal to him that he would allow himself to be shot by countless arrows, just to let his Lord die with dignity.

Wakatoshi knows the legend enough to understand that if he ever voiced this thought, he would be the laughing stock of many. Minamoto no Yoshitsune is the very face of tragic heroes. To call him fortunate is alike a spit in the face to the legend that ended in tragedy.

But a long time ago, there was a person who would constantly receive the balls aimed at Wakatoshi, just for him to preserve his strength. He had received those shots, over and over, over and over, over and over…

To meet a person of such stature is nothing but good fortune, even if the rest of one’s lifetime is stained in grief.

Wakatoshi studies the large figure, rainwater dripping down from stone. He had always watched Oohira from behind. He had never known how it would have looked from the front. Receiving all those arrows out of loyalty.

There is a word with a name that blooms in his chest, its petals staining every inch of his ventricles. But it is not suffocating. It is not painful.

It is like the rainwater on his skin – it has the power to be destructive and frightening, and yet, it is nothing but gentle.

Just like Oohira.

Wakatoshi is older now, and understands his feelings better. He turns away from the statue, and continues walking.

**

The Schweiden Adlers are in Sendai for a V-League match on the weekend. After their first training session in the gymnasium, they get a half-day off, where they get free reign to do whatever they want. Some of them meet with old friends, others explore the city. Wakatoshi goes home, and visits his mother for the day, before heading back into town. He exits the train station, and walks through the city, wondering whether he should eat at one of the familiar shops, or return to the hotel for dinner.

As he passes through the city, he remembers the memories that come with each landmark. He has been here many times, alongside his friends for shopping trips and outings. Even though many of the shops have changed, the main layout stays the same. The intersection on the street. The cluster of traffic lights. The brightly lit shopping mall. The overhead bridge to cross the road.

Wakatoshi heads towards the bridge, and as he moves forward, he hears the sound of a voice from a lifetime ago.

_“Wakatoshi!”_

He does not need to turn around to know who that voice is from. But he turns, nonetheless, and faces Oohira Reon – taller than before, his hair grown out, and a slight beard on his chin.

Oohira has always been good looking. But now, at twenty one years old, the time he looks more attractive than before. Wakatoshi feels his cheeks going warm at the sight of him.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Oohira says, giving Wakatoshi a grin.

 _Oohira, Oohira, Oohira._ It has been too long.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi answers. “It has.”

**

Oohira is in his final year of university, and was in town shopping after an early timetable. He was on his way home, before he had spotted Wakatoshi at the overhead bridge.

“I’m actually going to see your game this weekend,” Oohira says, showing him a ticket. “But who knew I’d actually meet you here?”

Wakatoshi nods.

They haven’t talked much since graduation day. There were occasional LINE conversations, but those never lasted long, and they had never met in person, up until now. It had been strange at first, Oohira going from so close, to distant, but Wakatoshi had accepted it. There was a part of him that had once hoped they could go back to being as close as they once were, before Oohira had confessed. But their lives had separated on since that day in the train station. Wakatoshi has long known, that he cannot turn back time.

_(“This world will never go as one hopes it does.”)_

He has long made peace with those words.

“I’m going to work at Kiniro Sporting once I graduate,” Oohira tells him. “And I’ll be playing for the Kiniro Sports Jumpers.”

“Congratulations,” Wakatoshi returns.

“That’s a fast one,” Oohira says, voice slightly teasing. Wakatoshi remembers the day Oohira had received his university acceptance letters, and smiles wryly.

They lapse into silence, amidst the loud sound of cars on the road. But even with the years of separation in between them, it isn’t awkward at all. From middle school, up until now, there was never a moment where the silence between them had ever been uncomfortable.

Not even when they become lovers. Not even when they stopped being lovers.

“I’m sorry,” Oohira says, all of a sudden.

Wakatoshi blinks.

“What for?”

“I told you I’d watch your games, didn’t I?” Oohira answers. “I didn’t. I didn’t watch any of your games for a whole year.”

Wakatoshi has no response to that.

Another silence passes, and this time, there is a tension in the air. But still, it is not uncomfortable. It is similar to a long time ago, where Oohira had made a different kind of confession.

“I thought that after the breakup, I’d just revert to being your friend like always,” Oohira goes on. The traffic almost drowns his voice out, yet Wakatoshi hangs on to every word. “But after you left, it was a lot more painful than I thought. So I didn’t watch you play. I kept up by reading everyone else’s messages. But I couldn’t bear to watch, until I moved on completely. And even after I moved on, sometimes it would still be too painful to watch. So I didn’t.”

Oohira had always sent him good luck messages, from the day Wakatoshi had made his debut. Wakatoshi hadn’t known that he wasn’t watching, for that one entire year.

“…I see,” he says, looking up at the overhead bridge in front of them. “Thank you for watching, whenever you could.”

Perhaps it would have stung if he had known back then. He is almost thankful no one had told him before - although perhaps, no one had known. Now he is older, and he has learnt to look back. Whether or not Oohira watches his games, Wakatoshi still cherishes the messages and memories, to help him take a step forward.

“It didn’t make much difference, anyway,” Oohira jokes. “I mean, you’re always good, whether or not I watch.”

Wakatoshi exhales out something similar to a laugh. If only Oohira had seen him perform, when he first made it to the international stage on senior level.

“I’m fortunate,” he answers. “That’s all.”

Oohira laughs in return.

It’s been a long, long time since this has happened. Just the two of them, laughing about something mundane. Back then, Wakatoshi had been passive, not making many decisions on his own. He had hidden behind Oohira, like a porter behind a monk, and had taken what he wanted, under the guise that he had thought it was what Oohira wanted too.

Now, he knows differently. Unchartered territory stretches out before him once more, and he is unafraid.

He does not dread the uncertain future anymore.

“Oohira,” he says. He inhales, and exhales. “I am currently unoccupied. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Oohira smiles.

Everything begins with Oohira’s smile.

“Okay,” he says, and the singular word swells up into Wakatoshi's ribcage. It is not suffocating. It is not painful. “Where are you headed to?”

Perhaps they will have this dinner, and nothing more. Perhaps they will meet again after Wakatoshi’s game, perhaps they will not. It does not matter. What matters now is that they will have dinner, and talk about their lives, and enjoy themselves.

That is all that Wakatoshi wishes for.

Another bridge, another story. There are no nursery rhymes or swords, no betrayals or tragic ends. The two of them climb up the stairs, side by side, and history begins anew.

**

The gymnasium in Tokyo is loud with the sound of cheers. It’s a full house – of course it is. Everyone is excited to see the reigning champion, the Schweiden Adlers, in action. Around the country, people are tuning in, in the comfort of their homes, or in the company of many. Half a world away, Utsui Takashi watches the game from his laptop.

And somewhere in the stands, _Reon_ is watching.

The other side is another powerhouse, finishing second in the league the season prior. It may still be early in the season, but pundits call this match the first turning point, determining who will be the front runner for this year’s league title.

A fifty-fifty chance of victory, a fifty-fifty chance of defeat. Wakatoshi has enough faith in himself and his team to clinch victory, but volleyball matches are alike a parabola on a chalkboard – they may rise into the sky, and they may plummet down into the earth.

After all, paths are not linear, not even for the fortunate.

But his father’s words are a reassurance in the back of his mind. They may have long since been crushed into concrete dust, but Wakatoshi still keeps its remnants close to his chest, a precious reminder of his resolve. A precious reminder of his single constant.

Wakatoshi loves volleyball. He loves playing volleyball, and he loves watching volleyball. He loves playing as the ace, and he loves playing in any other position. He loves volleyball when he wins, and he loves volleyball when he loses. It has always remained the same, even as the world around him changed. Even when he slowly began to change.

No matter how far his once-linear path takes him, he will have that singular constant to cling onto, to speak proudly to his father the next time they meet.

The crowd goes wild as they enter the main court, and the opposing team watches them with excited eyes. The first checkpoint of the season is about to begin. The first fork in the road.

Wakatoshi does not know the outcome of the match. But it does not matter.

(What he does know is that he will meet with Reon after the game, and they will have dinner. They will go home to his apartment, where Reon will kiss him, and Wakatoshi will say “welcome home”.

It is a future that he is certain of, and a future he looks forward to.

And so, he moves forward.)

**

_“That is, if you choose to continue volleyball. It doesn’t matter what form it’s in. If you end up liking volleyball, I’ll be happy.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you very much to the creators of shiratorizawa week for hosting the event! i'm glad to participate in an event focusing on my favourite school in haikyuu!! 
> 
> this fic started out as a historical au, but somehow it turned into a canon compliant one. haha. while a lot of the focus was definitely on ushijima this time around, i've had thoughts about writing a piece for this fic-verse in reon's pov sometime! maybe one day...
> 
> more about this fic, if anyone is interested:-  
> \- the movie that the third years watch is "the men who tread on the tiger's tail" by kurosawa akira  
> \- the play that wakatoshi watches as a child is "ataka". i imagine the ushijima household tried to get wakatoshi involved in arts,with little success.  
> \- the statue is based on this [this one](https://www.360cities.net/image/statue-of-musashibo-benkei-tokyo-japan)
> 
> in all honesty, the idea of an ushireon fic with the theme of ushiwaka and benkei has been long in the making, so i'm very happy i got to write it! ushireon is definitely a pair close to my heart. i'm glad i get to write about them in conjunction with a shiratorizawa-themed event! thank you to the creators once again!


End file.
